


Madness

by DisasterJones (orphan_account)



Category: Darksquidge, Tomska - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Depression, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Rage, lol wowie projecting much amirite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DisasterJones
Summary: Oops I did it again, I forgot what I was losing my mind about.





	Madness

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics from [Young and Menace](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtVFTuIZFYU) by Fall Out Boy

“Great fucking job, Tom.” He sighs and slumps against the door frame, dumbstruck with lucidity and attempting to recover.

  
He always made such a fucking mess of everything.

He barely remembers what he was even upset about - it’s a blur that might be something like shapes and sounds not getting along, or something, but that’s about all he can piece together. Everything hurts, and the room shows why. The den is an absolute _disaster_.

The lounge chair’s been toppled, table and lamp unceremoniously gone with it. He’ll have to replace that bulb again. Third time this month. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair and swipes it across his face, rubs his eyes, trying to wake up the nerves, trying to process this bullshit with more than lethargic indifference.

He opens his eyes to surveil the rest of what is now the broken landscape of his living area. When his gaze falls to the handle of a coffee mug, a new uncomfortable mix of frustration and shame bubbles and simmers in his stomach, still running off the residual heat of his magnesium fury, not enough energy to surge forth, but enough for him to feel the sting.

He had actually liked the “Don’t Mug Me” mug. Used it for The Orb. It was a good mug. Good pun. But his fit of rage apparently determined it would be more aesthetically pleasing to have the shattered shards of ceramic lining the carpet. The resulting hole in the drywall was a real nice touch that he didn’t anticipate, but in the end it really worked with the overall theme of “somebody may have either had a breakdown or got robbed, it’s pretty up in the air lads.”

What’d Bob Ross call them? Oh yeah. Happy accidents.

Hah.

What a happy little accident he made.

He stood against the doorframe for what could’ve been a couple minutes, or it could’ve been hours. The heavy fog of depression long set in, his mind torturing itself with harsh cruelties; could have done thises and should’ve done thats and a lot of everyone hates yous. Haggard and sullen with a thousand-yard stare, he doesn’t notice anything or anyone around him, lost in the depths of his self-loathing.

A soft hand traces tiny soothing lines across his arm before resting upon his wrist, pulling him from the suffocating murk of his thoughts. He focuses his gaze as best he can, his bloodshot eyes finding Charlie’s gentle, patient ones.

  
“Hey,” she says in a quiet voice, carefully scanning his face. He notices her minute motions, the way she's angling herself to look at only him, actively ignoring the mess he made. There's something beastly and obnoxious in him that wants to stir the pot, wants to pick the fight, wants her to challenge his terrible decisions, but he’s more willing to appreciate the gesture than fuel the fury that begs to burn again.

“It’s me, your local garbage man,” Tom replies with the best fake smile he can muster, trying to lighten the mood, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. Some sensible part of him tries to keep him in line, shouting in his head, _just keep trying you shit because she’s all you’ve got and you can’t do this pushing everyone away thing again_.

  
Charlie’s face is soft and light, and probably there’s a lot of thought and judgement going on behind it, but he can’t think about that. He can’t think about the ways in which she’s weighing the pros and cons of him, can’t think about the way that’s what she _should_ be doing if she isn’t already. For a change he’s self indulgent, all Tom wants to do is wrap himself up in her, just love her and be loved by her and pretend like he’s not a raging monster who could destroy everything, who might just because he can and because that’s his pattern. And the people love consistency.

Hah.

  
“It’s okay.” Charlie, ever the angel, offers him everything. Offers him the chance to forgive himself, offers him the chance to move past himself, to move past his bullshit. Offers him a smile so pure and wonderful he doesn’t think he deserves it, and probably never will. “You’re my garbage man.”

  
If only she knew.

Maybe she does.

Maybe she’s actually okay with it.

Maybe she’s just as crazy as he is.

 _  
Whatever the case_ , he thinks to himself as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her in and holding her candlelight purity and comfort like he’ll disappear if he lets go, _I owe you everything._


End file.
